


Hermione Singer - Legend

by Mlr96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mlr96/pseuds/Mlr96
Summary: Many years ago, Bobby Singer met a woman who helped him move on from Karen's death. A year after the last time they've met, she shows up on his doorstep with a bundle in her arms. Now Bobby needs to learn how to raise a child, while she needs to handle more than the normal problems of growing up - Friendship, love and war.
Transferred from ff.net.





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote and uploaded this story to fanfiction.net a while back, but ran out of muse about a year ago. In order to try and resurrect it, I decided to start uploading it here, as well. In order to make sure nobody accuses me of plagiarism from myself - the story is posted there under the penname mlr96, I am the author of the story and this is not the first of my stories to be uploaded to both platforms.

January 1980.

A tall woman stood at the doorstep of the breaking down house, a small package in her hands. She debated for a moment if she should just walk away, remembering the last time she'd met the resident of this house, but eventually decided to stop thinking about herself. Her doom was already known, and near.

She hastily knocked on the door, and waited for the man to open it. He frowned when he saw her.

"What do you want, Mar?" he growled, and she took comfort in the fact that he at the very least used her nickname, rather than calling her by her full name.

"Can't an old friend just visit, Bobby?" she asked, walking into the house without invitation. The war was taking away all of the strength she'd had, but seeing him brought back the little childhood left in her twenty-three year old form.

"Last time I saw you, I told you to never come back," he muttered.

"And I had full intentions of doing just that," she replied. "Alas, sometimes we cannot do as we please, but as we must."

Bobby took a moment to consider the woman in front of him as he followed her to his living room. She still sported a fine, British accent and a tall, proud frame, but she seemed different from the last time he'd seen her, nearly a year ago. She seemed… defeated somehow.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"War," she said. "One I seem to be on the losing side of."

"War?" he repeated. "Between… your… kind?"

Marlene smiled sadly. "Yes," she said. "A Wizarding War."

"And you came here for shelter?" he asked.

"No," she said simply. "I am not likely to survive to see the end of this world. Hiding here will do me no good other than to put you in danger." She looked into his eyes, which reflected the love she felt for him. A love he told her he no longer felt. "I'm not here for shelter…" she repeated. "Not for myself, at least."

She carefully handed him the small package in her arms and he took a moment to look at it.

"What in the name of…" he trailed off.

"Yours," she said. "Couldn’t have been anyone else's." She looked longingly at the sleeping baby that was now in his hands. "Her birthday is on September 19th," she provided. "She just turned four months old last week. I am hunted," she added, causing him to look up at her, "and so is my entire family. Nobody knows about her existence other than myself and my parents, and now you."

"Mar…" he started but she cut him off.

"Let me finish," she said, tears in her voice. "Please. I will probably have no other chance to tell you this, and I want you to know it all. I'm sorry, for keeping it a secret from you for so long, and I'm sorry for all the other secrets I've kept from you. I was only trying to protect you from the darkness of my world, just as you tried to protect me from the darkness in yours. I hope for your forgiveness, and hope that you will one day understand why I did it all."

She leaned in and kissed him once, very softly, before turning and walking towards the door.

"Marlene!" Bobby called and she turned to look at him. "What's her name?"

"Hermione," she replied as she walked out of the house and apparated away.

"Hermione," Bobby repeated quietly. "Hermione Singer."

* * *

January 1986.

The young girl ran around the house, screaming with the pure joy of childhood as she enjoyed the feeling of her hair trailing behind her.

Bobby Singer looked at his six-year-old daughter. She was so young and naïve, still untouched by the evil of this world. The evil he hunted. The evil he tried with all his might to keep away from the clever kid, who had already started asking questions.

She had inherited her mother's curls, but his brown hair. She had her brown eyes, but his eye-shape. And she inherited all of her mother's expressions, starting with joy and ending with anger. Young and small as she might have been, when she was angry she made everybody in her surroundings shiver.

As she decided to take a leap down the stairs, Bobby realized she wasn't going to make it. He jumped from his place, the warning at the edge of his tongue, but she'd already jumped.

She stayed in the air longer than he thought she would—longer than she should have—and he knew it was yet another sign that her mother's powers had passed on to her. But he was ripped away from the thought when her landing still wasn't perfect and she called out in pain. 

 "Daddy!" she cried, and he picked her up, gently placing her on the couch and looking at her bleeding leg. Just a scratch, nothing more, but wounds like that always seem bigger.

"It's alright, Mya," Bobby soothed the girl, taking out some gauze and antiseptic and preparing a Band-Aid nearby. "It's gonna sting a bit, but then it'll get better. Are you ready?" She nodded. "Hold my hand against the pain." 

He disinfected the wound and she squeezed his hand as he put on the Band-Aid, but recovered quickly afterwards.

"Not so bad any more, is it?" he asked, wiping away her tears.

"Not at all, Daddy," she replied, hugging him.

"Don't you do that again, would ya?" he asked. "Gave me the creeps for a moment there."

"I won't," she promised.

He gave her a short hug to reassure himself that she really was okay, when a knock was heard from the door.

Instantly, he was taken back to that moment nearly six years ago, when Marlene had knocked on the door and brought him what was yet to be the only real joy in his life since he lost Karen. He knew she couldn't be back – if she was still alive she would have returned long ago – but every time someone knocked, he couldn't help but hope.

He opened the door to see a man slightly younger than he was, standing on the threshold.

"Yes?" he asked grumpily as moments passed and the stranger said nothing.

"Are you Bobby Singer?" the man asked.

Bobby's hand tightened on the shotgun that was just outside of the man's sight. "Depends on who's asking," he said.

"My name is John," the man said. "John Winchester. Rufus told me about you, and he said you might be able to help me with a case I'm working on." He looked at something behind Bobby and when the older man looked as well, he found Hermione peeking out from behind his leg, torn between curiosity and shyness. "Rufus didn't mention you had a kid," John said mindlessly.

"Yeah, I'm kinda busy right now," Bobby said. "Sometimes it's best to wait until there's nobody listening," he explained quietly, looking at the girl at his feet. "Why don't you come back later tonight?"

"I can't," John said, gesturing at the car where Bobby could now see a kid around Hermione's age playing with a young toddler. "I don't like leaving my boys alone at night."

 The look on Bobby's face immediately softened. "Why don't you all come inside?" he asked. "Mya would love to have some friends her own age to play with for a change, and we could talk without disturbance."

"Sure," John replied, and walked back to the car. "Dean," he said, causing the older boy to look up, "why don't you two come inside? I need to talk to someone and it's best if you don't wait in the car."

The kid, Dean, nodded and walked outside, leading his brother behind their father, and the trio came into the house.

The boys paused at the sight of Hermione, who was no longer hiding behind Bobby, but looking at them with undisguised curiosity. Though many strangers came to the Salvage Yard to speak with her dad, this was the first time any of them had brought kids. She hadn't known any kids other than those who went to school with her and bullied her for her bushy hair and slightly bigger-than-usual front teeth, but those two seemed nicer.

Seeing as none of them was going to introduce themselves, she stepped forward. "I'm Hermione," she said politely.

"I'm Dean," the older one said, "and this is my brother, Sam."

"Why don't you guys go to play outside?" her dad offered.

"Sure!" she said, and reached a hand to Dean. "Come on," she added when she saw he was not taking the offered hand, "there's plenty of place for hide-and-seek."

The boy looked up to his father, who nodded shortly, before taking the hand and letting Hermione lead them outside.

"Wow," he said when he saw all the cars.

"Like I said," Hermione repeated, "plenty of places to hide."

 "I was talking about the cars," Dean mumbled, and Hermione laughed.

"I wasn't," she said. "Do you want to play?"

He looked at his brother cautiously. "Sammy's not old enough for hide-and-seek," he said.

Hermione thought for a moment. "What if you two play together against me?" she offered. "That way, all three of us can enjoy the game."

"Okay," Dean replied. "You count first."

"You've got until ten!" she warned before turning around and closing her eyes.

* * *

"Cute kids you've got out there," Bobby told John as the three kids walked outside.

"You too," John replied. "Does she know?"

"No," Bobby said with a frown. "Yours?"

"Dean does," John said, "but I'm trying to keep Sammy out of it if I can."

"Smart idea," Bobby said before taking two bottles of beer out of the refrigerator, one for himself and one for his guest. "You said you need help?"

"I'm hunting something I think might be a Rugaru not far from here," John explained, "and Rufus said you might be able to help me find information about this thing."

"I think I might have a book with Rugarus here somewhere," Bobby replied, walking to his library and pulling out a worn book. "You know, if the hunt is nearby, I don't mind watching your kids for a couple of days."

"You don't?" John asked, surprised.

"They seem like nice kids." Bobby shrugged. "And Mya seems to like 'em. It would be nice if she'd have friends to play with."

"If that's the case, I'll hit the road straight away," John said. "Do you mind if I'll take the book with me?"

"Not at all." Bobby replied. "Bring it back when you pick 'em up."

They walked outside just in time to hear Hermione's victory call.

"Found ya!" she said gleefully. "Your turn!"

"Boys," John said as he saw his sons running behind Hermione, "come here for a moment, would you?"

The boys came to their father and Hermione followed and stood beside them.

"Don't go yet!" she called sadly. "You only just arrived!"

"I gotta go," John said. "But I also have some good news." The three kids looked at him expectantly, though Sam didn't seem to realize what was happening around him. "Would you two like to stay here for a couple of days while I'm away?"

The three kids' eyes lit with excitement.

"Yes!" Dean called out happily and Sam nodded to agree. He wasn't sure who this girl was, but she seemed nice and she smiled a lot, and Dean seemed to like her.

"Really?" Hermione asked. "Can they, Daddy? Please?"

"Of course they can, Mya," Bobby told his daughter with a smile before turning to John. "Why don't you go help them get their stuff from the car while we get a room ready for them?"

John nodded and helped his kids bring their bags to one of the rooms upstairs, just next to Hermione's, before walking back to the Impala.

"Dad!" Dean called, running after him and not stopping until he was in front of the much taller man. "You'll be back, won't you?"

"Of course I will," John told his elder son.

"Will you…" Dean looked embarrassed for asking, but kept on anyway. "Will you be back before next Friday?"

"I'll do my best," John replied. "But just in case I'm not—" He took a present out of the back seat of the car "—happy early birthday, Dean."

The young boy's face lit with excitement as he opened the present his father handed to him, finding a small black toy-car.

"It's the Impala," his father explained. "I know it's not much but—"

"It's amazing," Dean said, giving his father a short hug before adding politely, "Thank you, sir."

"No problem, kiddo." John said, ruffling his hair. "Why don't you go back inside and play with your new friend?"

Dean ran back into the house happily, and John drove away. He did miss Dean's seventh birthday after all, but when he returned he found out that Hermione managed to somehow get Dean to tell her it was his birthday, and insisted they do something to celebrate it. There was even cake and all.

He also found out that despite the fact that every night the kids went to sleep in different rooms, every morning Bobby found them all curled up on Dean and Sam's bed.

This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship, he thought to himself, and decided that from now on whenever he had a case nearby, he would leave the boys at Bobby's.


	2. Truths Unravelled

July 1991.

"I'm a _what_?"

Hermione looked at the British woman in front of her, the one who'd introduced herself as Professor McGonagall from Hogwarts School of _Witchcraft and Wizardry_. The woman said that Hermione was a _witch_ , as was she, and that she had been granted a place in the school since she was born.

"You're a witch, Miss Singer," Professor McGonagall replied calmly. "So was your mother, though neither of your grandparents nor your great-grandparents were. She attended Hogwarts herself, when she was your age."

Hermione turned to look at her father. "Did you know?" she asked him.

"I knew what your mother was," he admitted. "But I wasn’t certain if you inherited it from her or not. Though I did suspect."

"And your speculations have been correct, Mr. Singer," Professor McGonagall replied, taking out an envelope out of her purse and handing it to Hermione. "Read it," she said.

Hermione looked at the envelope. In elegant, beautiful writing was written, "To Hermione Singer, Singer Salvage Yard, Sioux Falls, South Dakota".

She opened the letter and looked inside. There was a letter, addressed to her and written by the woman in front of her, who appeared to be the Deputy Headmistress of the school. The letter explained that she had been accepted to that school she had never heard of, and that response needed to be delivered by August 1st which was only a week from now.

"If you choose to accept your registration of the school, there is a list of supplies attached," Professor McGonagall said. "I will escort you tomorrow to Diagon Alley, where you would be able to purchase those items."

Hermione's eyes scanned the supplies list, before looking up at her father.

"I ain't gonna tell you what to do," he said. "It's your choice."

"I want to go," she decided. "I want to go to that… Hogwarts place."

"Very well, then," Professor McGonagall said. "I shall be here tomorrow morning."

"Wait!" Hermione called. "Dean and Sam should be here tomorrow."

"They're her friends," Bobby explained in return to the witch's questioning look. "They don’t visit very often."

"If you'd like to go today, it can be done," the Professor replied.

"Yes!" Hermione called happily.

"In that case, we should leave immediately. There is much to do and very little time," she looked at the child's father. "I presume we will return here during the early afternoon hours, due to time-zone changes."

"No problem, ma'am," Bobby said and Hermione had to stifle a laugh at the politeness she hardly ever saw in her father.

He walked the two witches outside and the older one reached into her bag and pulled out what seemed to be an old shoe.

"On my count of three, touch it," she told the young girl. "One, two, three." And the women disappeared in a twirling of lights.

Bobby sighed as he walked back into the house. His little girl was growing up faster than he wanted her to. In his mind, she was still the toddler who wasn’t even tall enough to climb the steps, or the six-year-old who cried when she scratched her knee and needed him. And now she was going to that boarding school in _Scotland_ , of all places.

She made her choice, he reminded himself. He told her she could do whatever she wanted, and she picked the odd world her mother came from. He can either make that trip with her, or be cast out.

And he was _not_ about to be cast out.

 

 

Hermione sat on her bed, her feet crossed as she read into 'Hogwarts, A History', which she purchased the previous day during her trip to Diagon Alley with Professor McGonagall. The book was very interesting, and explained a great deal about the school she was about to attend, but as minutes passed by and she wondered when Sam and Dean would arrive, she couldn’t concentrate.

She picked up her wand from the small night stand in her room, observing it. Ten and three quarters inches, made of vine wood and containing a string from a dragon's heart. The wand chooses the magician, the old wand-maker had told her, and this wand chose her. What does it mean?

From the floor underneath her, she thought she could just make out Bobby's screams, presumably on the phone.

"You know I don’t do cases far away!" he called. "I'm not gonna just leave Mya alone!" There was silence for a couple of seconds before he added, "I know you do it all the time but I'm not you!"

Hermione slowly returned to wand to where it previously was and walked out her room. Quietly, she got downstairs and stood at the door to her father's library.

"I know," he was just saying. "I know, John." He sighed. "Fine. But as soon as this is over I'm taking all three of them with me. Mya's starting a new school soon and God knows if they'll get another chance to see each other. I'll see ya there. Bye."

He hung up the call and sighed, taking a bottle of whiskey from one of the shelves and downing a glass.

"Dad?" she asked and he jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Hey, sweetie." He smiled warmly at her, the anger gone from his features. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard screams so I came downstairs," she said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bobby replied. "I've got this case I need to work on with John, we'll be driving there soon. Get your bag ready, you'll probably spend the night with the boys at the motel."

"Okay," she said and walked back to her room, stuffing clothes into a bag.

By the time she returned downstairs, Bobby had his own bag ready, and they were off to the road. It was a rather long drive but Bobby made sure she spent every moment she was awake entertained, even though she didn’t bring any of her books.

They parked outside a trashy-looking motel and walked to one of the rooms. Bobby knocked and within seconds, John opened the door.

"Thanks for coming, Bobby," he said. "Come on, Mya, the boys are waiting."

"Mya!" two different voices called as she walked inside, and two sets of arms hugged her.

"Dean!" she called gleefully, hugging them back. "Sammy!"

"We need to get going," John said. "Boys, you know the drill."

"Don’t open for anyone, don’t leave the room and don’t stay up too late," Dean recited and the adults left.

That night could have easily been the best night of her life so far. Dean and Sam ran jokes and played with her, they watched a movie and threw popcorn all over each other and when Sam fell asleep, Dean and Hermione stayed up for hours, doing nothing but talking.

"Dean?" she asked after a while, when they were both starting to drift off. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, Mya," Dean said. "Anything."

"Our dads…" she started, and then paused. "Do our fathers…" she tried again, and this time it seemed to work slightly better. "Do our fathers hunt monsters?"

Dean thought for a moment. "You should probably ask your dad," he finally said.

"But I'm not asking him," she replied. "I'm asking you. And you _did_ say I can ask _anything_."

Dean sighed a sigh that was too old for an eleven-year-old to make.

"Yes," he said. "They hunt monsters."

She nodded, more to herself rather than to him as things started to make sense. "What do they hunt?" she questioned.

"All sorts," Dean said. "Vampires, werewolves, demons, and some monsters I've never even heard of!" he exclaimed. "Oh, and one time, my dad hunted a _witch_." Hermione's blood froze in her veins. "An actual _witch_! Can you believe it? He's a superhero. Hermione?" he asked, seeing as his friend wasn’t listening any more. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," the girl lied. "Just tired."

"Me too…" Dean said, yawning. "Goodnight, Mya."

"Goodnight, Dean," she replied, but her mind was somewhere else.

Dean said his dad hunted witches. Did her father ever hunt a witch? Would they hunt her, now?

The questions swirled in her mind as sleep finally found her.

 

 

August 1991.

Hermione pulled on the brave face. She laughed and played with Dean and Sam as if nothing was wrong, and didn’t throw a second glance at her dad and John when she saw them.

Only a week later, when John took off with the boys again, she let herself break down.

At first, a shudder crossed through her body when she saw the Impala driving away. She knew there was no real reason to be scared of her father, but she still did. After the black car was out of sight, silent tears started dripping on Hermione's cheeks. Then, she started crying.

Bobby kneeled besides her, thinking she was crying because she had to say goodbye to her friends. He tried to calm her, telling her she would see them again, but it was no good. The child just kept weeping.

He took her in his arms and rocked her, whispering soothing words until she calmed down enough to tell him what happened.

"You hunt monsters!" she cried. "And Dean said that – that – that you hunt witche-e-es!"

Worry crossed the older man's face as he held his daughter in his arms.

"Not witches like you, Mya," he said. "Never witches like you. The witches I hunt are not natural witches – I made sure of that the moment I found out about your mother. The witches I hunt got their powers from demon deals, and they use it to hurt people. You," he repeated, trying to calm her down, "are not in any danger."

She sniffed her nose, taking ragged breaths and curling up on his chest until she calmed down. He slowly wiped the tears away from her face, kissing the top of her head.

"Could you tell me about Mom?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment, but eventually decided to do whatever he had to help her stay relaxed. "Her name was Marlene," he said. "Marlene Rogers. I met her when I was sixteen and she came to visit some family who lived not far from here. I was seeing Karen at the time," he said, gesturing at one of the pictures in the room, "so I didn’t gave her much thought, but I met her again on a hunt a couple of months after Karen died. She took the pain away. And I took some of hers, though I didn’t know it at the time.

"When I found out what she was, I was mad." He remembered. "I screamed at her, told her I never wanted to see her again. A year later, she appeared here, holding you in her hands. She told me to take care of you and disappeared. Only then I started researching about wand-carrying witches and wizards."

"She's dead now, isn’t she?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Bobby admitted. "But I know that in the little time she was with you, she loved you very much."


	3. Hogwarts

September 1991.

"Everything's ready?" Bobby asked Hermione as she hopped down the stairs.

"Yep," she replied.

"Did you eat something?"

"Burger leftovers," she said, hiding a yawn.

They were told that the Hogwarts Express would depart at eleven am, and that someone was to arrive and pick her up an hour before. Due to the time differences, that meant Hermione needed to be ready to leave by four am.

"Get some sleep on the train," her father said. "School starts tomorrow and I don’t want you to be too tired."

"I will," she promised, and kissed Bobby's cheek.

They sat on his couch, waiting, when the flames in the fireplace suddenly became green. Both of them jumped to their feet as a tall woman walked out.

"I am Madam Edgecombe from the Ministry of Magic," she presented herself. "I will escort you to the train today, seeing as it is your first time of using the Floo Network."

"The Floo Network?" Bobby repeated, confused.

"Travel by fireplace," Madam Edgecombe explained, taking a small bag filled with green powder and handing it to Hermione. "Take some," she ordered, and when the girl obliged, she guided her to the fireplace once more. "You need to be calm. Relax before throwing the powder into the fire and clearly stating the name of your destination – in this case, King's Cross Station. Close your eyes, and keep your elbows tucked in. I will follow shortly after, with your luggage. Understood?"

The young girl nodded and did as she was told. She threw the powder at the fireplace, amazed to see the flames changing its color to green once more, and called clearly, "King's Cross Station!" as she walked inside.

The fire immediately swirled around her, sending her away until she fell outside of a fireplace in a small room. She got to her feet and dusted her clothes off just in time to see Madam Edgecombe following her, by far more elegantly. The older witch escorted her to the train station, and helped her through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, before departing and leaving Hermione on her own.

The young girl managed to upload her belongings onto the train thanks to the help of two nice ginger twins, and when she turned to thank them, their eyes opened wide.

"Look at this George!" one of them called.

"Did you hear what I heard, Fred?" the other asked.

"It appears that –"

"– we've found ourselves –"

"- an American!" they called together.

Blush started rising up on Hermione's face. "Hey," she said. "Nice to meet you, I'm Hermione Singer."

"Fred and George Weasley," one of the twins said.

"I'm George, that's Fred," the other said.

"You can tell the difference because I'm the handsome one," Fred winked and she rolled her eyes.

"I need to go find myself a car," she said. "Thank you again."

"Did you hear that, Fred?" George asked. "Cars instead of coaches. She even speaks American and all!"

Hermione laughed and left the twins to themselves, settling down in a car. Or a _coach_ , whatever they call it over here. She took out one of her books and kept reading. It was the last book for her to read and she wanted to finish it all before the first day of school. She started drifting off when the car's door opened.

"Hello," a chubby boy said. "Did you happen to see a toad?"

"No, sorry," she said. "Do you want me to help you search?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically and she returned the book to her bag and got up.

"You're American," he noted.

"And I have a lot more to me than just that," she laughed. "Hermione Singer, nice to meet ya."

"I'm Neville," the boy said. "Neville Longbottom."

They decided to split up across the train in order to cover more _coaches_ and Hermione started her journey. At some cars, they completely ignored her, some were nice enough to reply that they hadn’t seen any frog, and on one of her last, she saw two boys around her age.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked. "Neville's lost one."

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," one of them, who was ginger like the two who helped her, said rudely but she'd already lost concentration.

"Oh, are you doing magic?" she called, exited at the sight of his wand. "Let's see it, then."

She sat down and looked at the boy, who appeared to be a bit taken aback.

"Er – all right." He cleared his throat. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow." He waved his wand, but nothing happened.

Hermione waited a second or two, checking that nothing was happening before asking, "Are you sure that's a real spell?" she asked, feeling slightly sorry for the boy. "It's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me." She was speaking very fast, as she always did when she was nervous. Dean used to laugh at her about it, and she usually joined in on the laugh but she was too stressed now. "Nobody in my family's magic at all, I mean, my mom was, but her family wasn’t, and I never met her growing up. It was a real surprise when I got my letter, but 'course I was so happy, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, I just hope it will be enough." She swallowed nervously. "I'm Hermione Singer, by the way, and you are?"

"I'm Ron Weasley," the ginger said.

"I think I've met your brothers," Hermione said with a smile.

"Harry Potter," the other one said and before she could stop herself, her eyes darted to his forehead, where his signature scar was.

"You're Harry Potter?" she asked. "I know all about you! Bought a couple of extra books, for background reading and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century!" She stopped herself from speaking further. If Dean saw the way she was rambling, he'd laugh at her for the rest of her life.

"Am I?" Harry asked.

"Don't you know?" she found herself saying despite her best efforts. "I'd find out everything I could if it were me. Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking 'round, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds the best by far, though I wonder what house my mom was in…" She trailed off for a moment, just long enough for Neville to mutter something about finding the toad and she sighed in relief that someone stopped her from talking any more.

They covered the rest of the train, together this time, but had no luck at finding the toad. When they finished their tour of the Hogwarts Express, Hermione sat back in her compartment and picked up her book.

"That," she muttered to herself, "was _so_ embarrassing."

"Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

They were left on their own for about ten minutes now, and the tension was building rapidly. There was no information whatsoever about the Sorting Ceremony, and she had no idea what to expect.

"Now, form a line and follow me," Professor McGonagall ordered and the first years obliged.

They walked back across the entrance hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall, where everybody's attention seemed to be on them. Hermione never did liked being at the center of the attention. From her experience, it usually ended with someone making fun out of her, with the exception being Sam and Dean, of course.

She sighed nervously. What wouldn’t she give to have them here with her? During the past five years, Sam became something of a younger brother to her, and Dean was now her best friend. Trying to distract herself from thoughts about her friends, Hermione watched the ceiling.

"It's charmed to look like the sky outside," she provided, more to herself more than to anybody else. "I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Nobody responded so Hermione followed the other students' gazes to the front of the room, where a ragged hat was place on a stool. To her surprise, the hat opened its "mouth", and sang:

_"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, / But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find / A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black, / Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat / And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head / The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you / Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor, / Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry / Set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff, / Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true / And unafraid of toil._

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, / If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning, / Will always find their kind._

_Or perhaps in Slytherin / You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means / To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid! / And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none) / for I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The Great Hall burst into applause and Hermione joined in, relieved. A Hat. She can put on a Hat.

Professor McGonagall started reading the names in an alphabetical order, and every student whose name she read walked forward and put the Hat on.

Some of them got sorted the moment the Hat touched their heads, while others sat on the stool for a couple of seconds. For them it must've felt like _years_.

When Harry's turn arrived, the Hat remained on his head for nearly a minute before he was sorted to Gryffindor, causing the entire table to roar happily. It wasn’t long after, that her own turn arrived and she walked to the stool with what she hoped at least seemed like confidence. The Hat was placed over her head, blocking her view of the rest of the hall as it started talking again.

"My, my," the Hat said, "what do we have here? The daughter of a Hunter and a Witch? How did _that_ happened?" It chuckled to itself but must've sensed Hermione's wrecked nerves because it returned to "Business Mode". "I see many things in here. Clever and eager for knowledge. You'd make a fine Ravenclaw. But there are so many things you already know… too much for such a young girl but you seem to be taking it pretty well. I think you've proved to have earned being a GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat called the last word aloud and Professor McGonagall took it off Hermione's head, smiling at her as she made her way to the Gryffindor table and sat between Neville and yet another ginger.

"Percy Weasley," the ginger introduced himself. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," she replied with a smile, causing him to raise his brow.

"You're American," he said.

The smile drifted off her face and she turned around to keep watching the Sorting. Ron Weasley was also sorted into Gryffindor, along with a boy named Dean Thomas.

The name reminded her of home, where people spoke in a way she understood and nobody felt the need to remind her she was American, as the people here seemed to be doing.

Get yourself together! she ordered herself. The term hasn’t even started, you can't let yourself get homesick.

When the Sorting ended, Professor McGonagall took the stool and the Hat away. The man who sat in the middle of the table and whom she recognized as Albus Dumbledore, stood up and caught everyone's attention.

"Welcome," he called in a calm, confident voice. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet –" Hermione needed to remember to check what that word meant "–I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

He sat down as food appeared on the table, and it took Hermione a moment to overcome the shock and start filling her plate.

When she was done, she asked Percy about the classes and they got carried into a discussion about Transfiguration ("Professor McGonagall's a tough teacher – but she's also fair."), Charms ("I tried the Levitation Spell at home and nearly got it, but got so excited about it that I dropped the book I was levitating...") and Potions ("Make sure to come prepared. Snape doesn’t like Gryffindors and doesn’t bother hiding it, so don’t give him any excuses.").

When desserts arrived, she also joined the first years' conversation about their families.

"I'm half-and-half," a boy named Seamus said. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."

"My gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad," he finished and everybody laughed.

"My dad left my mum when I was a baby," the boy named Dean provided. "Mum's a Muggle but I don’t know if he was a wizard. How 'bout you, Curls?" he asked Hermione who blushed at the nickname.

"Muggle dad, but mom was a Muggle-Born Witch," she replied. "She died when I was a baby, so I grew up as a Muggle. Only found out when I got my letter." She stopped talking when she saw everybody gaping at her. "What?" she asked.

"You're American," Dean said.

"And everybody here seems to think I don’t know that," Hermione replied. "I'm American, so what?"

"So," Seamus said, "what're you doing here? Shouldn’t you be attending Salem?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "They never spoke to me, so I just assumed I'll go here. Was born in Britain, so maybe that's the reason."

"Maybe," the group agreed and the conversation went on until the feast was over and they all went to the Gryffindor tower and settled in their rooms. Hermione wrote a letter to Bobby and reminded herself to go to the Owlery the next morning to send it.

Drifting to sleep, she thought to herself that this was gonna be a _very_ interesting year.

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to upload a new chapter every week, but if I'm late or you just don't want to wait, you are more than welcome to go to ff.net, where all of the written chapters of this story are already posted.


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